One Child in Berlin (Stella Bled Book Three), page 23
Oscar didn’t reply but turned his back on her. Ulrich moved to follow his brother automatically, but then stopped and met her eyes. “Goodbye, Sophie.”
“Goodbye, Ulrich.”
The men left and several others came up for their coats. Stella had to search through the racks again and again, her hands moving over the fabric without any real brain power being applied to it. The brothers were talking about an invasion. That had to be it and some plan to do with the Jews. Koblenz. Uruguay. Her mind was spinning and she had to find out what in the world they were up to. The most obvious country to invade would be France, but the Maginot Line was in place and the French were well armed, according to the papers in England. If Ulrich was right, the Germans weren’t strong enough to take it.
“Stella,” said Clara. “Are you in there?”
“Huh?” Stella stuck her head out.
“I’ve been calling you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was…” She saw a coat she recognized “Trying to find Herr Koblenz’s coat for Hanni.”
“Who?”
A zing went through her. “I mean, Herr Köhler. My head. I’m such a Dummkopf.”
Clara frowned and held out her arms. “You’re anything but stupid. Give it to me and I’ll take it. He’ll get very testy if it’s delayed and he likes me.”
Stella ran the coat out and handed over the musty thing that smelled of fried cabbage and mold. It was a good thing it hadn’t been hung next to Oscar’s coat. She’d never have heard the end of it. Clara ran off to Herr Köhler and Stella leaned out to look around the club. There were coats left and no guests.
Hanni staggered up and dropped her head on the counter. “I have blisters.”
“I thought you didn’t get them anymore,” said Stella.
“Didn’t you see me with Herr Köhler?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. The heavyset publisher danced every dance with Hanni and loved to dip and spin.
“It’s not funny. He stepped on my feet while he was trying to spin me.”
“I bet you got a nice tip though,” said Stella.
Hanni smiled at her with mischievous green eyes. “I did. He was very generous. I’m lucky his wife didn’t come. She’s a real pill. Did Obersturmbannführer von Drechsel appreciate you?”
She sighed. “What do you think? Two tables full of SS.”
“Not even the Wehrmacht? They’re usually good tippers.”
“Nothing. And just my luck, they’re coming back on Saturday,” said Stella dramatically. She wanted them back, but it was best not to look that way.
Frau Bothe stomped up and said, “Was that a complaint I heard?”
“Von Drechsel brothers are coming back.”
“I know and they want you again, although I don’t know what you’ve done to deserve their patronage.”
Stella pouted. “If I knew, I’d stop doing it.”
The matron cracked a rare smile. “I wouldn’t allow it. The Obersturmbannführer hinted he might be bringing a guest. Any idea who that might be?”
“No. They don’t talk to me. I never even sat with him.”
Clara walked up, stifling a big yawn. “Stop complaining. This could lead to big things for you.”
“Like what?” Stella asked.
“A new job, like Gisela Bauer. She served Herr Kissel and now she’s got a good job at Daimler.”
“We’ve got good jobs,” said Hanni.
Clara nodded without meaning it and Stella pushed Hanni off the counter, flipped it up, and came out to see the rest of the girls heading down to get their coats. Hanni took off her shoes and wrinkled her pretty little nose at the bulging bags of watery goo on her big toes.
Inge walked up and said, “That is disgusting.”
“I know and I’m to serve Herr Porsche tomorrow.”
Inge stomped her foot and tossed back her blond curls. “I never get anyone good. Why can’t I have Ferdinand?”
“Because you’d call him Ferdinand,” said Frau Bothe. “Go on home and, Hanni, soak those feet.”
Inge took Hanni’s arm and said, “I’ll make sure she does even if she takes all the good customers.”
“I do not.”
“You do, too, you and those big weepy eyes.”
“I don’t have weepy eyes.”
“You do. You have big cow eyes and everyone falls for them. It’s not my fault my eyes are squinty.”
The girls went back and forth as they disappeared through the back of the club door. Frau Bothe eyed Stella’s feet. “Best soak yours, too.”
“I will.”
“And do something different with your hair.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Stella asked as she touched the braids winding around her head.
“I think Obersturmbannführer von Drechsel would like some variety.”
Clara evaluated Stella. “I think so, too. Maybe bring curls down to frame the eyes.”
“And that’s going to lead to big things, is it?” Stella asked.
Clara took her arm. “It could.”
“It’s not going to lead to better tips. I know that much.”
“I don’t mean tips.” She took Stella’s arm and they walked away from Frau Bothe who was already yelling at the busboys who were being unreasonably slow while moving as fast as humanly possible.
“Well, I’m not marrying anybody. I don’t care what anyone says,” said Stella, twisting her Werner ring.
“You don’t want to stay here forever, do you?” asked Clara.
“I only just got here.”
“You know what I mean.”
Stella didn’t actually. As far as she could tell the goal was marriage and children and it was the only goal for women. Hitler even had a law encouraging it. Inge wanted that Motherhood Cross with all her heart, gold, if possible. Stella had wanted to marry Nicky and she presumed children would happen at some point, but her goals lie with the brewery. Nicky still struggled with the fact that she was going to work, but she never considered it work. Not really. She was a Bled. Bleds brewed. What else would she do?
“So,” Stella said as they walked down the stairs past a couple of crying dancers. Dancers were always crying about something and if you asked what was wrong they’d tell you and you’d regret it. They all had multiple boyfriends, some they shared, and there was forever a tragedy in the making. In Stella’s opinion, the dancers made Inge look like a college professor, “You aren’t getting married. What are you going to do?”
“I can’t get married.” Clara looked down from her towering height. “It’s not an option.”
“Your mother must be tall.”
“She’s barely taller than you.”
“That’s…surprising,” said Stella.
“You’re not the first to say so,” said Clara. “I have my father’s height and hair. My brother is a tiny brunette. You look a lot like him actually.”
She smiled up at the statuesque Clara. “Then he’s adorable.”
Clara’s face lightened up. “He is and despite what it may sound like, I love him very much. I’d die if anything happened to him.”
“Is he in Poland?”
“Not yet.”
They were quiet walking through to the dressing rooms.
“Wehrmacht?” Stella asked finally.
“Yes. Why did you say that?”
She laughed. “Well, you said he’s adorable. The SS is anything but adorable.”
“I wouldn’t have him in the SS,” whispered Clara. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. So what are your plans?”
“I’m going to get into the Reichsministry. I’ve taken typing and shorthand. No one will care how tall I am if I’m sitting at a desk.”
“You could do more than that, I’m sure. You don’t seem like a secretary.”
“I wanted to study physics, but that’s not possible,” said Clara with a bitter tinge to her voice.
Stella almost asked why not, but she remembered in time that women were strongly discouraged from going to university. It got in the way of breeding. “You should have my tables,” she said impulsively.
Clara made the dissatisfied snort that Stella needed to master. “I’m too tall to please them. Obersturmbannführer von Drechsel is very taken with you and your tiny self. I’m a statue, good for looking at at a distance.”
“But he’s on the way up. You said so yourself,” said Stella.
“And he’ll take you. He’s never done more than look across the room at me. You’re the first girl he’s talked to or requested.” Clara got their coats and rolled her eyes at Inge and Hanni giggling over a note a Kriegsmarine had passed Hanni. “You’ve managed to convince him that he’s fascinating.”
“No, I haven’t.” An idea popped into Stella’s head as she looked up at Clara’s highly intelligent face. She wasn’t like any of the other girls. She didn’t talk like them or think like them. She didn’t want her brother in the prestigious SS and she thought pretty much every official that walked through the door was a joke, even though she was desperate to get somewhere. Perhaps this was someone who could be turned to their way of thinking.
“What makes you say that?” Clara asked.
Stella decided to go ahead and ask. It might be a risk, but the whole reason she was in Berlin was to find things out. “They talk about things I don’t understand.”
Intrigued, Clara asked, “Like what?”
“Apparently, there’s a genius in Koblenz and Ulrich assumes I know who it is and I don’t. I pretended today, but he’s going to catch on that I don’t know anything.” Stella put on her coat and sighed.
“Koblenz?” Clara’s stunning face creased into a frown as she began working the puzzle. “The Wehrmacht is there. Group A.”
“Are there geniuses in the Wehrmacht?” asked Stella with doubt, although it was highly dangerous to imply they weren’t. All Nazis were geniuses, according to themselves.
“I wouldn’t say so,” whispered Clara. “But I’m just a woman who can’t go to university.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Who said it? The genius thing.”
“Ulrich.”
“The brother? The scarred one?”
“Yes.”
Clara began plucking at her lower lip with a long perfectly polished nail. “He was in Poland.”
“He was,” Stella said eagerly.
“I heard something about that.”
“What? Something about him getting injured?”
“Something about Bzura,” said Clara.
Hanni interrupted. “What are you two talking about? I want to go home. I have to soak these feet.”
Maria came up and sighed. “Yes, let’s go home. I’ve got more sardines.”
The girls laughed and headed for the stairs. Maria and Hanni had taken Stella’s arms so she had to go, but when she glanced back at Clara, the girl mouthed, “I’ll figure it out.”
I know you will.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SOUND WOKE Stella up, but it took a long time for her to realize she was awake and hearing something real. It was so faint it was like a dream or a memory, a sort of squeal and then something else.
Stella forced her eyes open and pulled down the blankets to reluctantly expose her head to the frigid air. Irena thought that now that Poland was completely controlled the restrictions on coal might be let up, but so far her hopes were in vain and Stella had begun to think she’d never be truly warm in Germany. The club got comfortable when it was full, but somehow the chill stayed deep in her bones.
Another weird squeal and then a crackle came into Stella’s room and she sat bolt upright. She definitely heard that, but, looking around, she couldn’t figure out what the source was. Stella slid out of bed and looked out of her little window. There was nothing to be seen and no traffic on an early Thursday afternoon so she trotted around to go out her door. It creaked loudly and she stood shivering on the landing, listening to nothing, except a couple of voices on the floor below, Inge and Maria bickering about something or other.
She knocked on Hanni’s door. “Hanni, did you hear something? Hanni?”
Footsteps made the floorboards creak and Hanni opened the door, her long hair stuffed under a stocking cap for warmth. She rubbed her eyes and asked, “What?”
“I heard something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Something…it could be a radio,” said Stella.
Hanni laughed. “You heard Irena’s radio way up here. You must have ears like a bat.”
“No, not Irena’s radio,” said Stella, yawning. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Maybe you were dreaming.”
She shrugged. “I don’t think so. It woke me up.”
“What time is it?” asked Hanni.
“Two.”
Hanni pushed her back gently. “Are you crazy? Go back to bed.”
“I can’t sleep now.”
“Well, I can,” she said. “Wake me up at five.”
“We could go shopping,” said Stella, trying to think of something to say that would get a negative response and give her a reason to leave the house. It was getting harder to find excuses when all the girls did was work.
“For what? We’ve used all our ration cards for clothing, even after returning your shoes.”
“Oh, right.”
Hanni rolled her eyes. “Go to sleep. It’s the best entertainment.”
“I just feel like shopping.”
“Go buy some bitter salz. I used them up last night.”
Stella grinned at her. “We can shop.”
“Oh, yes. The Apotheke is so exciting.”
“We do need them for your feet and mine.”
“Have fun shopping for foot salz.” Hanni closed her door and Stella smiled. Success.
She went back in her room and threw on her warmest dress and a pair of itchy woolen tights that had been darned no less than seven times. Then she gathered up the money she’d gotten from tips when she wasn’t serving the SS and put it all in her handbag. She’d gotten by so far without bribing anybody, but that couldn’t last forever.
It was Inge and Maria bickering about the bathroom and who used the little hot water to be had. Stella hurried past them, not wanting to get hauled into an endless round of who did what when.
On the ground floor, she smelled the heavenly scent of fresh bread. A few extremely generous people had given Irena their flour ration so she could bake for Otto’s memorial.
“Irena!” she called out.
The matron appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “What are you doing up?”
“Something woke me and I couldn’t go back to sleep,” said Stella.
“What woke you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Hanni said I was dreaming, but now I’m anxious. I want to shop.”
Irena burst out laughing and unexpectedly hugged her. “I love your optimism.”
Stella found herself laughing, too. It felt odd and slightly uncomfortable knowing that poor Irma was upstairs with tears crusted to her face. “I don’t know that I am. I just want to get out and do something that isn’t serving beer.”
“I know. It’s been all work since you got here and dear Irma…we can’t do anything for her.”
“Is there any news?” Stella lowered her voice. “Will they get Otto’s body back?”
“I shouldn’t think so. That poor family,” she said. “You know Otto was the only boy. There’s no one to carry on the family name. No cousins at all.”
“I didn’t know and that makes it worse, doesn’t it?”
Irena nodded and blinked back tears.
To change the subject, Stella said, “Hanni said the bitter salz are gone. I can shop for that.”
Irena wiped her eyes with her apron. “You don’t mind? It’s bitter cold out there today.”
Stella stuck out a leg. “I’ve got your stockings on.”
“Those old things? I just gave them to you for around the house, not for being seen out in public.”
“I don’t mind and they are so warm.”
Irena laughed again and patted Stella’s cheek. “You are the funniest girl. Inge would rather die.”
“I’m not Inge.”
“You are not, but what about that dirty frog?”
“It’s daylight and I’ll be careful. No alleys.”
Irena frowned. “I don’t know.”
“I do. I can’t hide in here forever and I promise to stay where people can see me all the time.”
“If you’re sure, let me get you some money. Salz aren’t rationed yet, thank goodness.”
Stella waved that away. “I’ve got my tips. They won’t cost much anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
“Hold on.” Irena went into the dining room and came back with a roll with a thick layer of jam that Stella could see through the well-used waxed paper. “Take this with you.” Then she gave Stella a small cup of good coffee, which she downed in one gulp.
“Thanks, but where did you get the jam?”
“My mother gave it to us. She still has a few jars from the summer.”
“That’s very kind of her.”
“She likes to help where she can and it’s only her at home now,” said Irena, giving Stella another hug before opening the front door. “Be careful.”
Stella assured her that she would and hurried out before the matron could have second thoughts.
Maier Bäckerei sat on a corner in a quiet section of the Berlin Mitte and it was busy, despite being rundown with peeling paint and a sign that looked like it had been bolted on the front long before the last war.
Stella flirted with the idea of bypassing the line since she wasn’t going to buy anything but thought better of it. She might have a riot on her hands. Hungry people were testy people and everyone was hungry in Berlin. So she took her place in the back of the line and queued for an hour. By the time she got to the front her stomach was rumbling and the smells coming from the hot ovens in the back weren’t helping matters.
The exhausted woman at the counter turned to her after the last woman in front of Stella had finished haranguing her about everything from the size of their loaves to the amount of wheat in them. She looked at Stella with hangdog eyes and said, “Can I help you?”
